


Miracles in Equality

by ravelqueen



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Elizabeth is Awesome, F/M, Future Fic, No Dialogue, adult ciel and elizabeth, i don't know i love them but I just can't write them less than angsty, lizzy appreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 18:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2160054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravelqueen/pseuds/ravelqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Ciel was never a person who laughed a lot. He used to smile, smile, smile. He smiled at and for everyone, so much that it lost its meaning. A small vindictive part of her, the one she tries to squash down is almost a bit happy that he stopped doing it.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miracles in Equality

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt lizzy/ciel - A person who never laughs.

Ciel was never a person who laughed a lot. He used to smile, smile, smile. He smiled at and for everyone, so much that it lost its meaning. A small vindictive part of her, the one she tries to squash down is almost a bit happy that he stopped doing it.

It’s wrong, she shouldn’t think that, she should be concerned and sad that Ciel seemed to have lost his smile and gained a frown instead. And she  _is,_ it’s just that now when Ciel smiles, it’s not an automatic response drilled into him, a thing done out of politeness.

His smiles, his real ones, the ones he smiles in broad daylight, they are for _her_. Ciel who is serious and contained, who tried for so long to show that he’s an adult, whose age has finally caught up with his maturity, sometimes looks at her and just smiles.

It’s quiet and contained and she knows she’s not supposed to see it. She certainly never acknowledges it, because it’s a smale, fragile thing. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t catch it, out of the corner of her eyes.

The man who does everything for a reason, smiles without a purpose and it’s for  _her._  The pleasure she gets out of this thought is almost sexual in it’s intensity and she knows that’s not normal. Knows from her chat with the other ladies that even if it’s a love-match, this level of feeling should calm down after some time.

(She tries to ignore the pitying, disbelieving glances she gets when she stresses that it’s a love-match on both sides, but they  _burn._ Somehow Ciel always knows, knows how her soul grates, how she feels every touch like a mark,  _needs_. And because he knows, he holds her close, keeps her on the edge for hours, whispers in her ear, how much he  _adores_  her, how she’s the only good thing left. She wants to cry  _here look, see how he loves me_  to the world.)

There is a time where she obsesses over his smile, shortly after she caught it for the first time. Wondering how often he does it, how many times he’d smiled that fluttering smile that made her fall in love with him all over again. How often it had just gone into the universe without her  _knowing_.

She kept watching him, cataloguing what she did when he smiled at her, trying to find the connection so she could do it more, whatever it was that she did so he’d smile at her _more_. (She’s always been greedy, after all)

She couldn’t find it, there didn’t seem a rhyme and a reason to it, the only commonality was that they had to be alone (or as close to alone as they ever got) and that her attention had to be preoccupied.

She had to give up, because he surely noticed her unusual focus and the smiles (at least the ones she managed to catch) became fewer and fewer and no matter how much she wanted to find out why, she decided to just be happy that somehow he did give her a reason to smile.

She wants this (her) to be enough, that these few moments where he manages to smile, small and secretive, but real, are good enough. Enough to make him happy (so he’d  _stay_ ).

When he tells her everything (she knows most of it, she isn’t blind and Sebastian isn’t as subtle as Ciel would like him to be, demonic smile on his face when he teases her) she cries. He doesn’t try to comfort her, because he knows there is nothing,  _nothing_  that will make this right.

Seeing him holding his daughter for the first time feels like a miracle, laughing at her, smiling wide and open at Lizzie, the way he never allows himself to be, only in the cover of darkness or quiet where nobody can see, where he can pretend they are living in a dream. ( _I dreamed we could stay together forever, Lizzie_ )

Everyone told her that the pain of birth is forgotten, is  _worth_  it when you hear your child laugh for the first time. That all the little annoyances that children bring are nothing compared to the joy. That loving your child is instinctual, unconditional.

Lizzie doesn’t know if she’s a bad mother. She loves her child, but mainly she loves  _their_  child. She loves her for breaking through his many masks, she loves her for the quiet look at wonder that crosses his face looking at her, because he’ll turn that look to Lizzie, sometimes, lets her see, lets her in.

Ciel was never a person who laughed a lot. But he does now sometimes, when they are in their little world of three. She may not have been enough to make him stay, but she did enough, she gave enough, she  _loved_  him enough, that he  _wants_  to. She is important and it  _hurts_  him to know he’ll leave her. And that small vindictive part of her can only think good. Because now, finally, they are equal in everything.


End file.
